Solitude : Surfacing


In our busy, busy world of constant change and media noise; it takes mindful discipline to shut it all down and focus within. 2020 started with a promise of beginnings –  a new decade, a new chapter, but little did we anticipate a global pandemic to pull the rug right out from under us. Some say the writing was always on the imaginary wall, some say history repeats itself, some say devastation paves the way for global rebirth.

Humans are highly capable of adapting to change, it’s our inborn innate trait therefore situations that ultimately destroy our safety net, eventually lead us to discover a brand new direction – we just have to be patient.

Writing, photography, music and art are my creative outlets – they help me organize my thoughts when pressures that are out of my control occur. They are my comfort zone and they validate the power that living a creative life has on me.

Soon to the blog a new series of poetry –

Solitude : Surfacing



Symphony in the Sky









To the 4:00 a.m. song bird –
Yes, I hear you in the background of a dream
Your music; the alarm waking the night,
Sending the darkness away

To the 8:00 a.m. shimmery, blue-head Grackle –
The young mouths are waiting in the nest entwined by burgundy blooms of clematis “Niobe”
You frantically dash from tree to tree – shrieking at any sign of danger
Ambitiously tugging into the ground to find morsels of strength to stuff into tiny, hungry beaks

To the 1:00 p.m Mourning Doves –
You dance together on decayed tree limbs – oblivious to the world below
You are coy whilst displaying your affection
Your song is melodic and soothing

To the 5:00 p.m. Cardinal –
Your red feathers illuminate in the late afternoon sun
You sing to your lady,
She hears you –
She sings back to you; her song of admiration
You feel proud

To the Red-Wing Blackbirds, Chickadees ,Robins, Sparrows and Swallows –

“Sing, sing a song, sing  out loud, sing out strong”

It is now dusk and the symphony of songbirds is the music of the sky
I am the audience
I am elated

At 10:00 p.m ; the sky is deafly silent.

The glow of the full moon sets the stage for the next performance.


Words and Photography by Ann Ivy Male




When the Fog Lifts



When the fog lifts

What will be waiting for us on the other side?

Shadows of fear or

A promise of peace?

Whose dreams are caught in tangled webs of time?

Those of the unknown.

We cannot know what it feels like to hide in the shadows.

To see an enemy creeping closer

To stare into the eyes of a helpless soul –

To walk away in sadness

To hear The Last Post echo through the fog,

And time stand still

For just an instant.

What will tomorrow bring,

When the fog lifts beyond the trees?

A clear, blue sky.